The Story of Miss Bancroft and Mr Magnus
by chartreuseian
Summary: He's home, visiting from London and at a dance he doesn't really want to attend but then a young woman across the room catches his eye and the rest is history!
1. Enraptured

**This is just a little something I've been tossing around for a while because I've always wanted to know more about Helen's mother. Had a bit of trouble with her name because all the online sources have her as Patrica Heathering while in SFN2 it was very clearly stated that her maiden name was**** Bancroft. I went with Bancroft because, while the webisodes are great, SFN2 was better :P**

**At this stage I don't think this will be anything more than what's here though if there's interest, I definitely have a few ideas as to how to continue it. Anywhoooo, I don't own this, so don't sue me (please and thank you) :)**

**Also, if you haven't already, head to my profile to get the low down on the fanfic4kids thing Emmy1512, LoveActuallyFan and myself are doing. It's for a good cause!**

**xx**

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><p>She was tall. It was what had drawn his attention in the first place. Taller than most girls and certainly as tall as most of the men in the room. He wondered if heeled slippers had anything to do with it though he didn't really mind. To him her height was regal, it made her stand out. She was no simpering country girl, content to giggle and flutter her eyelashes until a man came to sweep her off her feet. She was sweet, yes but there was something in her eyes that spoke of an intelligence that made him wish he'd gotten to place his name on her dance card for he was certain that, by now her card would be we and truly full.<p>

He suspected they knew each other, some strange family connection that meant they'd played together as children but never before had he noticed her like this. Part of him was certain that if he'd ever seen such a beauteous creature before, he'd have remembered.

It was the hair, he decided as he ducked his head to see around the crowds. Those golden tresses so artfully piled atop her head. What man could resist those curls? And the eyes too. Those piercing blue orbs that danced as she surveyed the room.

He longed to see her stand up again, to twirl around the room with the other women if only so he could see that carefree smile once more. She was smiling now but it was curbed, polite and lady like as opposed to the sheer joy that he knew would overcome her features when she was dancing.

"Who on earth are you staring at?" Albert asked, his voice low as he leaned over.

"The eldest Bancroft girl," Gregory admitted to his older brother. "The one in the lilac dress."

Albert chuckled knowingly, leaning back in his chair as he cast an eye over the woman in question.

"She'd be a handful Gregory," he warned, shaking his head as he took a sip of wine. "You don't want a strong willed wife, you want someone like my Emily. Sweet and pliable, unwilling to give you too much trouble."

"Please," Gregory snorted, tearing his eyes from the beautiful creature across the room to give his brother a disparaging look. "Where you see sweet, I see tiresome. What is the point of choosing a partner for life based on the degree of submission she appears to display? _That_ woman has backbone."

"Ah, poor, sweet Gregory, so unlearned in marital affairs. Just you wait little brother, I guarantee that if you take a wife like her, you'll suffer from constant headaches," he advise with a grin, making Gregory snort once more.

"Al, you've been married for all of 11 months, I hardly think you are an expert on such matters."

"Eleven months and six days," Albert corrected, standing up and straightening his jacket. "With a baby on the way. Now, come on, up with you."

"That means you know how to bed a girl, not wed a girl," Gregory teased. "And where exactly are you going?"

Albert simply smiled before grabbing Gregory by the shoulder and hauling him to his feet.

"We are going to talk with Mr. Bancroft," Albert said, pushing at Gregory until he started to move. "Father's interested in his methods of propagation for some of the tenants."

"No!" Gregory hissed, grabbing his brother by the arm. "We can't!"

"Oh come on Gregory, you've been in London for years now and still haven't found a girl and you aren't getting any younger," Albert explained sadly, shaking his head at his younger brother's foolishness.

"I'm at least 8 years her senior," he replied, panicked. "We can't Al."

"And why not?" he retorted, still dragging Gregory across the room. "Both of you are approaching a certain age, her dowry, while not insignificant is of no matter to you considering your studies and you've already said you find her to be pleasing."

With that Albert shoved him those final few steps across the small dance hall. This was why he didn't often return home, Gregory thought somewhat sourly. At least in London if he had to attend a dance or two he could generally hide in the corner all night. Here everyone knew him or knew of him, thus obligating him to dance with girls he found bothersome, converse with men he found idiotic and feign an interest in matters he had no interest in. Some days he pitied Albert, stuck here with no hope of escape but his elder brother had always adored these kinds of gatherings, revelling in the familiarity that came with knowing everyone in a 15 mile radius.

"Mr. Bancroft," Albert greeted genially, extending his hand to the portly man now standing before them.

"Magnus," he nodded in assent, eyes flicking between the brothers.

"This is my brother, Gregory," Albert introduced warmly. "He's studying in London at the moment."

"So I've heard," the other man said, narrowing his eyes for a fraction of a second before turning to the woman by his side.

"This is my wife, Helen and my daughters, Patricia and Ethel."

"Charmed," Albert replied, taking his wife's hand and bowing smoothly over it, his lips brushing over the back of her hand with a grace Gregory did not possess. "I take in Benjamin and his new wife are still on their honeymoon to Bristol?"

"Aye," Bancroft nodded, seeming to relax. "They aren't due back for another week."

Albert slipped into an easy conversation with the man, discussing everything from town gossip to the propagation methods he had actually suspected were made up, leaving Gregory stuck by his side, trying his hardest not to look over to the young woman seated a few feet from him. From this new angle, he was better able to observe the delicate features of her face, the careful slant of her nose, the cupid's bow of her lips, even the way her cheeks were dusted ever so lightly with freckles, something he rarely saw on the women in London.

Her gown was simple but appeared of sturdy construction and the cotton gloves she wore were trimmed with the smallest amount of lace, the simplicity of it all endearing her to him. She wore no grand plumes of fanciful silken concoctions, instead she allowed her natural beauty to out shine any jewel she could have worn.

Just as he began his appraisal of her delicate looking ears, she turned her head, meeting his gaze straight on. Her blue eyes were magnificent, like the sky on the clearest of summer days and it set his heart beating at an almost dangerous rate, all but leaping out of his chest.

But then she smiled at him and what he thought was fast paled in comparison to the rapid pattern his heart began to beat out. Her sweet pink lips turned up at the corners slightly, not enough to be conspicuous but just enough that to let him know that he had been caught. She sat serene, smiling ever so slightly at him and Gregory new in that moment that never before had he met such a beautiful creature.

Clearing his throat slightly, he attempted to smile back but when she let out a sweet little giggle at his efforts, he knew his nerves had distorted the gesture. Looking down, he smiled somewhat sheepishly, alarmed when an elbow to his ribs caught his attention.

Turning his head reluctantly, he caught the tail end of what he supposed was a warning glance from Albert. He took in his brother's frame, the tension that was not usually present and he understood in a moment what the problem was. He was taking too long.

Fighting the urge to shove his meddling brother from the room and give him a good talking to, Gregory turned, mustering up every mote of courage he'd ever had and smiled warmly at Miss Bancroft. His feet felt like lead as he walked towards her, the small distance seeming to stretch forever.

"Miss Bancroft," he greeted with a shy smile, his voice squeaking somewhat.

"Dr. Magnus," she replied softly, her voice barely audible over the music of the lively country dance but more melodious to his ears than any opera singer.

He chuckled at her assumption, smiling down at her.

"Mister," he corrected warmly. "I've a few more months of study before I can claim the title of doctor."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I should never have assumed," she said hurriedly, ducking her head and biting her lip in embarrassment.

"No," he blurted out, drawing her soft gaze once more. "No it's fine. I shouldn't have..." He trailed off, swallowing his words as she bit her lip and cast a nervous gaze around.

Suddenly the music changed and he decided it was now or never, after all, he could hardly make a worse impression.

"Miss Bancroft?" he asked, his voice once again squeaking. "I... uh... Would you happen to have any dances free this evening?"

She smiled sadly at him before shaking her head.

"Sadly I twisted my ankle this morning and cannot dance," she replied, sounding genuinely disappointed.

"Oh."

They were both silent for a moment, unsure of what to say at the music swelled around them. Albert was still in deep conversation with her father, her mother chatting away to her sister and another woman who had come to talk meaning that he essentially had her to himself. By her side was an empty seat and part of him longed to take it though he knew he mustn't be so forward.

"Although," she said after a moment, eyes trained on the handkerchief she was fiddling with in her lap. "I do believe I would be able to survive a turn around the room."

"Of course," he almost cried, stepping closer and offering her his hand. Raising her head she smiled warmly at him and he felt almost dizzy at it. Not many women would make such a suggestion and he couldn't help but beam as the woman that did took his arm.

"Thank you Mr. Magnus," she said softly, her small hand barely noticeable tucked in the crook of his arm.

"Please Miss Bancroft, call me Gregory," he insisted impulsively. The second the words were out he knew they were wrong but as she chuckled softly the tension that had built around his heart eased.

"On one condition _Gregory,_" she replied, emphasising his name as her eyes twinkled in a way he wanted to see for the rest of his days. "You must call me Patricia."


	2. Terrified

**So, because of the wonderfully positive response I got to the first chapter, I think I might continue this a little further. Not much more than a few chapters but after some prompting from agrainne24 I got inspired and have a few more ideas for this. I'm not too fond of the beginning of this but it ended much better than I had hoped so let me know what you think :)**

**xx**

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><p>Never in all his life had Gregory felt so nervous, not even when he'd had to sit his final exams just a few months ago. Now, sitting in the cosy parlour of the Bancroft family home, all those tests seemed like child's play. This was the real test, the test of his life in so many ways. For months now they had been courting, if it could even be called that. He was so rarely there that the majority of their relationship had blossomed through letters. At first they had been stilted, neither of them completely certain as to how to proceed but, eventually their letters had become more and more emphatic, Patricia proving herself to be quite the wordsmith. He adored hearing of her days, of the goings on around her and she, it seemed, was eager to hear of his life in London as lonely as it may be at times.<p>

And, as strange as it may seem, Gregory very quickly found himself regarding the arrival of her now weekly letters as the highlight of any given day. They were not doused in her scent (though if he breathed in deeply enough he could just pick out the faint smell of the lavender perfume she wore) nor were they particularly lewd or exciting reads but the gentle slope of her writing and the way she signed each letter 'with my most fond regards' had become something he couldn't live without.

So here he was, not quite a year after their very first turn about the room only a few miles down the road. Fiddling with the brim of his hat in his lap, Gregory blew out a long breath, trying to steady himself. It wasn't that he was second guessing his decision, in fact he'd made it months ago, only now getting the chance to act on it but the sheer terror of what he was about to do was inescapable.

He loved her, more than anything, more than he ever thought he could love another and it was a wondrous thing, making his heart beat a merry little tune at just the thought of it. He'd even told her of his feelings in a very sloppy letter, written one evening while intoxicated beyond belief and she, much to the pleasure of his stomach that hadn't stopped heaving until receiving her reply had reciprocated his feelings wholeheartedly, writing with a tenderness that had him smiling just thinking on it.

Another thing he'd learnt in their exchange of letters was that she had, much to his pleasure, a sparkling wit and could best him if he got too complacent. Her words were sharp and her phrasing quick and she, most thankfully had begun to talk back to him instead of shrinking away from things. She was fierce in her belief women's fashion had gone too far, more than willing to debate with him the best way in which to encourage tenants to pay their dues however she was always polite, her arguments coming across so sweetly that most of the time he found himself in complete agreement with her. Once or twice she had called him on it, begging him to resist whatever urge he may have to placate her in favour of an open and honest correspondence.

She was, without a shadow of a doubt, the single most astounding woman he had ever met and, as such he loved her with all his heart. Which brought him back to the present, startling himself from the pleasant revere he'd been enjoying and making him focus instead on the harsh reality of what he was about to do.

"He'll see you now sir," a timid maid said, peeking around a doorframe to give Gregory a small smile. Smiling in response he stood, clearing his throat before striding purposefully across the room to the study he was being summoned to.

He knock three times on the door, clenching his fist by his side as he listened for the invite he was after.

"Come," a gruff voice demanded and Gregory steeled himself before pushing open the highly polished door and stepping into the darkened room. The walls were lined with books, ledgers he guessed, dating back for decades. A small fire was going on one side of the room, warming a pair of overstuffed armchairs while a heavy oak desk stood in front of the window, laden with papers and notes abound.

"Magnus," the voice half grunted, drawing him from his study of the room.

"Mr. Bancroft," he said, wishing his voice hadn't squeaked. "Thank you for seeing me."

A grunt was all he got in response and, seizing what little of his confidence was still standing, he walked towards the desk, eyes on the imposing figure sitting behind it.

"Sit."

"I'm fine thank you," Gregory replied, giving the older man his best approximation of a smile.

For a moment neither said anything, the only sound in the room provided by the crackling fire.

"Why are you here?" the other man said eventually, making Gregory gulp in fear.

"I've... I've come to... to ask," he took a deep breath, "for Patricia's hand in marriage."

Silence fell again and Gregory thought he just might collapse if his heart didn't slow down a little.

"Why?"

Why? WHY? Because she is the most magnificent woman I have ever met, Gregory growled internally. Because she is intelligent and beautiful and the kindest person I have ever met. Because I can see myself with no other and I can think of nothing more wonderful than to have her by my side for the rest of my days as my wife!

"Because I love her," he answered finally, pleased that his voice did not shake at the words. "Because she loves me and I want nothing more than to have a life with her."

More silence and Gregory began to wonder if this was some sort of tactic.

"You are much older than her," the other man said, his voice low and eyes holding his steadfastly.

"Meaning... meaning I am more established and better able to care for her," Gregory replied, the answer coming from his practiced repertoire. This, he had anticipated.

"You'd take her from her home? From her family?"

"While my preference would be for us to share a life in either Oxford or London, I am... am willing to compromise if that is what she wishes," he almost stuttered, the words spilling from his lips as his heart began to pick up the pace once more.

The older man said nothing, standing up silently before walking past Gregory with towards the fire, staring down at it intently and Gregory was suddenly struck with how unfair this was. This ought to be Patricia's decision, not that of her father. It was supposed to be her life.

"With all due respect," Gregory began, his voice staring firm. "While etiquette may dictate that I ask you before I speak with Patricia, you should no sir that I have every intention of marrying your daughter should she have me and regardless of what you say I shall continue to love her."

"Is that so?" the man growled, spinning around to face him, reminding Gregory of just how much bigger this other man was than him. "Do you love her, really? Or are you simply hear to get your hands on her dowry? You are supposed to be a doctor, a man of science and one who lives in the very heart of London, surely finding a wife should not require you to travel all the way out here?"

Gregory's jaw almost dropped and he had to fight the urge to punch the man.

"I love your daughter sir, more than anything," he ground out. "And it has nothing to do with money. Not only do I make more than enough to support Patricia comfortably but my inheritance from the recent death of an uncle has allowed me to purchase a small townhouse in Oxford so that I may hopefully move there and pursue an academic career outside of London. As to your question of my ability to find a wife, I regret to inform you that finding a wife has never been of my top priorities. My love for Patricia does not come of a want to marry but from my heart and the fact that we met was not by design. I did not come here in the hopes of finding a wife but instead I was lucky enough to find the woman I love!"

Breathing heavily, Gregory sought to reign himself in, afraid his temper may have ruined things completely.

"While I understand that gaining your permission and blessing may be required in some social circles, I shall ask Patricia to be my wife regardless of your position on such an arrangement though I know it would mean a great deal to her should you deign to accept our union."

There was a beat before the older man began to chuckle, straightening up and giving Gregory a broad smile.

"I'm glad to see you have some spirit son," he said, beckoning a very shocked Gregory to his side. "If you are to live with Patricia you are most certainly going to need it."

Gregory spluttered, giving the man a confused smile. He'd been certain he was going to be thrown from the house and ordered never to return.

"I'd tell you to treat her well but something tells me such a thing would be unnecessary," he continued, clapping Gregory on the shoulder. "Though I think I shall perhaps offer you a stiff drink for now comes the hard part."

"Pardon?" Gregory asked as the older man walked towards a decanter of brandy sitting nearby.

"You still have to ask her dear boy," he chortled.

Gregory choked. He hadn't thought of that.


	3. Practice

**Thank you to all those reviewing, the support has been amazing. I actually never thought I'd continue this past the introduction! Anyway, let me know what you think and where you'd like to see this go, I have a vague idea (namely Helen) but if there's something in particular I can probably facilitate :)**

**xx**

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><p>"This is pointless," Gregory groused, falling onto the sofa beside Patricia where she sat sewing. "They don't respect me and they never will!"<p>

"They're old fools," she soothed, shifting to wrap an arm around his shoulders as she discarded her sewing. "They can't see how brilliant you are because their own brand of thinking is misguided."

Gregory chuckled weakly at her words but sunk into her gentle embrace, sighing as her soft fingers caressed his brow. For all they were alone, he knew she'd not touch him further. Their townhouse was modest to say the least, the two maids they employed managing to keep it neat and tidy easily and even though the remaining girl would be upstairs now, preparing their bed, Patricia had been scarred early on in their marriage by having the young woman walk in on them as they kissed ardently in the parlour. She'd gone beet red despite Gregory's reassurances that such behaviour was acceptable between newlyweds and to this day, struggled to meet the other woman's eye.

"They're just set in their ways," she continued, shuffling closer than normal, making his heart leap in excitement. Even after almost fifteen months of marriage, this kind of closeness was something he never grew tired of.

He let his eyes drift shut as her fingers trailed over his face softly. She was a dream, this woman. Serene and beautiful and sensual and more intelligent than he'd ever suspected. She asked after his work, spent hours listening to him as he detailed theories that most of his peers failed to comprehend, asking insightful questions that had him jumping for joy. He was certain at least some of it went over her head but the fact that she seemed genuinely interested astounded and thrilled him to the core.

"Thank you," he said softly, capturing one hand as it ghosted across his lips. He opened his eyes, smiling up at her as he pressed a kiss to her fingers. She smiled in return, her other hand smoothing the hair from his forehead as he held her hand to his chest.

"It's what I'm here for," she replied just as quietly and, after taking stock of the room quickly, she leant forward, brushing her lips against his in a chaste kiss. Gregory sighed at the contact, enjoying the way just the slightest taste of her could dissipate all the tension that had been building up inside him over the day.

"I'm the luckiest man alive," he said without thinking and she blushed, blue eyes locked on his. "Truly," he insisted, sitting up properly and turning to face her. With one hand he cupped her cheek, the other playing with the long curls that fell across her shoulder.

"You are magnificent Patricia," he continued reverently as her eyes darkened as they always did at such compliments. "Inside and out you are the most wondrous creature in the world and I am so terribly glad you agreed to take me as your husband."

Her cheeks were the loveliest shade of pink by this time, reminding him of the picnic at which he'd gotten up the courage to ask her to marry him. She'd blushed profusely at his request before nodding shakily. He'd been alarmed at the tears that tumbled down her cheeks but when she'd thrown herself into his arms careless to the plates around them, he'd been in a similar state, a sense of relief thrumming through his body. He had honestly expected her to laugh at his declaration of adoration and tell him that his outlandish compliments were all for nought. Later she'd apologised for the outburst but he'd shushed her, stating that she had made him the happiest man on the planet and thus had nothing to apologise for. That too had made her blush but it had been the first time he'd noted the darker shade to her eye, the one that he now saw in her gaze.

But then she bit her lip and he knew something was wrong. In their time together he'd made it his mission to make her happy at all costs, to give her everything she could possible want and with that came a study of her. He knew what each cock of her head meant, what each tiny tell was hiding and this was a sure sign that she as worried about something. Quickly he flicked through the course of the last few days, drawing up any and every instance he could think of that could be the source of this. Perhaps she'd tried to cook again? The only other time she'd done it, their cook had been furious, shouting and ranting and Patricia had been timid for days, eyes downcast as if afraid that she would somehow incur his wrath. Not that Gregory had a wrath mind but when, after a week of such behaviour he'd finally confronted her, she'd almost broken down. It had taken an hour of gentle questioning to get her to such a state but she'd confessed shakily to having been the cause of their late meal. He'd been unable to keep from laughing, much to her displeasure but, with a long and rather deep kiss, he'd alleviated her fears before promising that, should she wish to cook again, the cook would indeed endeavour to help her.

"Patricia?" he asked quietly, moving closer to her until he could wrap an arm around her waist, drawing her closer to him. She sniffled quietly but shook her head and he sighed. She could be the most difficult woman in the world when she put her mind to it, stubborn as a bloody mule. Of course, cracking that stubborn streak was something of a past time for him and he'd also had a fair deal of practice. Most notably when he had to teach her that intimacy didn't belong solely to the night. He almost smiled at the memory of her shock at the suggestion but pushed the thought away, while the memory of watching her squirm in the early morning light under his ministrations was more than pleasant, her lip was now trembling and she was leaning away from him.

"Talk to me," he urged softly, giving her waist a light squeeze. Briefly she met his gaze, giving him a small smile.

"It's nothing," she said quietly, her voice surprisingly even.

Sighing heavily, Gregory rolled his eyes before moving in even closer and scooping his delectable little wife up, dragging her into his arms and onto his lap. She gasped at the improper action, eyes widening as she quickly surveyed the room they were in before she squirmed.

"Gregory," she breathed, voice hushed as she fought his arms.

"No," he insisted, holding her tighter, taking her chin in one hand. "Don't shut me out, my sweet. Tell me what's troubling you."

She shuddered at his words before giving up the fight and collapsing into him, arms around his neck as she laid her cheek against his.

"Is it the house?" he asked quietly, trying not to sound too disappointed. It wasn't nearly as large as he thought proper but he'd not wanted to spend her dowry on providing shelter and his salary had been meagre at the time. Of course, he was now earning considerably more but they both agreed to wait a while before purchasing a larger home. While both of them had never gone without as children, Patricia had been vehement in her belief that they should have a healthy sum of money left over after purchasing a home just in case the worst should happen. He'd readily agreed to her suggestion at the time but now was wondering if it was what she really wanted.

"If you want to purchase the larger townhouse further into town we can," he said quickly, rubbing circles on her back. "I'm sorry if you feel trapped in this tiny place."

She kissed his cheek softly at that, pulling back slowly before shaking her head.

"I love our home, darling," she said quietly, voice still steady as her eyes began to water. "It's just that... that I..." She trailed off suddenly, hiccupping as tears began to stream down her cheeks, breaking his heart.

Pulling her tight to his chest, he held her as she continued to sob against him. While he'd experienced a few of her tears, his Patricia was a proud woman, rarely succumbing even when she had been informed of the death of her favourite aunt. Tears were not a part of who she was, in fact it was something she fought against so to have her openly sobbing into his neck made Gregory wonder what he could have done to upset her so.

"Tell me," he urged softly, rubbing a hand up and down her back. It wasn't conventional, she probably ought to be having this conversation with a female friend or maybe even her mother if it was this distressing but Gregory wanted to be the one to comfort her. He didn't just want a woman on his arm, he wanted to be her friend and confidante.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, shuddering as she reigned in her tears.

"Don't be," he replied fiercely, "just tell me what the problem is."

Slowly she pulled back, wiping her glistening eyes on her sleeve.

"I... I'm scared," she admitted quietly and he reached up, brushing a curl from her cheek in reassurance. "It's been so long... and we... I mean, _I_... I haven't been able to."

Then it clicked.

"A child?" he asked softly and she nodded miserably. With that her tears were back and she was clinging to him once more.

"Hush now my love," he said softly, holding her gingerly. "It's alright Patricia, it's going to be alright."

"But what if we... _I _never..."

"If _we_ never manage to have a child," he said fiercely, "then I think we shall both be sad but the time has not come for such worries."

"I'm too old," she whispered, not lifting her head.

"You are nothing of the sort," he retorted hotly. "We just simply must keep trying."

She let out a small giggle at that, pulling back with a watery little smile for him.

"We clearly haven't been trying hard enough," he whispered with a grin, leaning in to brush his nose against hers. She giggled again, the deliciously feminine sound making his heart soar.

"You really think so?" she asked, suddenly serious, biting her bottom lip as she regarded him uncertainly.

Taking a deep breath, Gregory smiled widely, cupping her face in his hands.

"I know so," he replied firmly, enjoying the smile that spread across her features as she visibly relaxed.

"Thank you," she murmured but, before Gregory could wave away her words, she kissed him tenderly. For a long glorious moment nothing mattered to him beyond the soft press of her lips against his and he let go, simply sinking into the moment but soon enough she pulled back, giving him a sleepy little smile he'd never seen outside of their bedchamber. In a fit of inspiration, Gregory tightened his arms around her before standing up, holding her to his chest.

She started at the movement, eyes going wide as she held onto him more tightly.

"Gregory!" she cried, scandalized but with a small smile playing on her lips.

"We're going to bed," he announced before turning and walking directly to the stair case. She squealed, struggling in his arms but, with a quick kiss to her cheek, she stopped.

"We can't," she breathed as he carried her up the stairs, not entirely sure how long he be able to manage such a feat.

"And why not?" he asked with a grin, enjoying the blush in her cheeks.

"Because it's not proper," she hissed. "It's one thing in the morning but we are to have dinner shortly!"

"Are you telling me you don't want to?" he asked softly, coming to standstill on the landing. "I thought we just discussed what needs to happen if we are to have a child." She blushed even brighter at his words but shook her head. Grinning even wider than before, Gregory continued towards their bedchamber, shooing away the shocked maid as Patricia buried her face in his neck.

"You are incorrigible," she muttered before kissing his neck softly.

Gregory only laughed, depositing her on the large bed before following her body with his own.


	4. Speculation

**Sorry about the wait with this one, I just keep getting distracted. Only when I did a rewrite of the original chapter for something I'm writing for school did I remember I'd neglected to write this. **

**Hope you enjoy and I apologize for any mistakes. I haven't had a chance to proof read this but wanted to get it up because it's likely to be a few days before I get the chance to write again.**

**Much love to all those reviewing and agrainne24 who is great with her little hints that she's after a new chapter of this :)**

**xx**

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><p>Carefully Gregory traced a pattern across her swollen abdomen, smiling when Patricia giggled at the sensation. He repeated the movement, this time ending with a little flourish that kept to the pattern of her dress. He smiled again, smoothing his hand across the large bump as he looked up to Patricia.<p>

"You don't mind this, do you?" he asked softly, knowing full well she enjoyed these moments, sprawled across their large four poster bed. It had quickly become their habit on a Sunday evening before dinner. Ever since she'd started the first day they baby had kicked, Gregory had become enamoured with her growing stomach. It had taken some coaxing but eventually he'd allowed her to let him hold her as he caressed the bump. Of course, they hadn't lain together since the conception, not properly anyway but for him this was almost enough.

"Of course not," she said softly, placing a hand atop his as she looked down at him. Her hair was a mess, golden curls framing her face as her blue eyes danced merrily. She was, to him, the most wonderful sight.

For all her fear that they'd never conceive, it had happened more quickly than they'd anticipated. Gregory enjoyed whispering in her ear that it was because of all their practice, the blush that graced her cheeks never failed to make him grin. The first time he'd made the comment they'd been at a grand dinner held by the university and she'd almost choked on her dinner, pinching his thigh beneath the table in retaliation. He'd yelped but been unrelenting, reaching down to grab her hand before she could retreat, holding it tight for the remainder of the meal.

That night she'd chastised him profusely in the carriage home, scowling and flapping her hands but he'd only grinned, chuckling every now and then. When she paused for breath he'd reached for her, dragging her to settle beside him. She'd fought momentarily before moving further into his embrace, laying her head on his shoulder. Gregory had sighed at the feeling of her curling into him before placing a hand on her stomach gently. She'd hummed in approval, placing her hand over his.

After that he'd taken whatever opportunity he'd been presented with to touch her abdomen.

Now though she was huge, the child sticking out from her like a separate entity and it was all he could do to keep himself from pressing kisses to the protrusion through her dress.

Sighing softly with a dopey smile on his face, Gregory turned his attention back to the bump, stroking it softly as he pressed his lips to the side of it again. Shifting, he pulled himself up onto an elbow, smiling down at the unborn child as he continued to stroke her stomach.

Patricia ran her finger through his hair soothingly and they both fell into silence, the last vestiges of sun disappearing from the window.

"What are we to name it?" Gregory asked softly, unable to tear his eyes from her great stomach. It was a reasonable question and one he'd been meaning to bring up for sometime but, every time they lay like this, the thought left his mind, completely entranced by the miracle he'd studied but never before witness in such an intimate way.

"Well if it is a boy, how about Gregory?" Patricia offered softly and he twisted, wrinkling his nose as he looked up at her. "Or not," she allowed with a soft laugh. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"If it's a boy I thought maybe Thomas or Charles."

"I like those," she replied with a sleepy smile. "Maybe Albert for your brother?"

"He named his son Albert," Gregory replied, shaking his head. "Edward for your father? Or Benjamin for your brother?"

"Benny has two boys, Edward and Benjamin," she replied, shaking her head. "I'm afraid it could all get too confusing."

"Perhaps James then?" he offered but she wrinkled her nose.

"Too staunch, I want our son to have a kinder name."

"How can a name be kind?" Gregory asked with a laugh and she frowned, swatting at his shoulder.

"Be kinder darling," she replied in rebuke.

"Perhaps Samson?"

Patricia thought about it, cocking her head.

"Possibly," she allowed. "Though what if it is a girl?"

Gregory smiled at that, his list of names were far longer if it were a girl.

"I suppose you'll not allow me to put forward Patricia?" he asked and she shook her head. "Well then, I was thinking Eleanor or Tabitha."

"Not Tabitha," Patricia replied. "What about Katharina or Beatrice?"

"You've been into Shakespeare again," he said with a laugh. "Though I do like Beatrice. Maybe Helena if you're tempted by Shakespeare."

"Too flouncy," Patricia replied. "I'll not have a child whose name implies airs and graces."

Gregory laughed at his wife's logic before shuffling further up the bed, pulling her into his arms.

"What about Helen then?" he asked, pressing a kiss to her soft cheek and she hummed.

"Helen is a nice name," she allowed softly, shifting closer to him. "Like Helen of Troy."

"Please do not make our daughter into a temptress," he groaned. "I don't think I could handle having two vixens in my house."

"Helen of Troy was a strong, intelligent woman," Patricia argued, arm slipping around his waist. "Do you not want those things for our daughter?"

"You know my brother always said I'd regret marrying such a bright woman," he remarked, earning a tut from his wife. "Your logic is infallible."

"And you are far nastier than you have any right to be," she bit back with a small smile.

He chuckled and tightened his grip on her.

"Any child of ours will be intelligent and beautiful," he said softly into her hair. "I can only hope that they are just like you in every way."

"With your patience," she added quietly.

He snorted, rolling his eyes.

"My patience comes from you," he argued. "I'd not wish my temperament on a child. It'll be a miracle if you can survive me let alone another, smaller, whiner version."

She laughed softly, pulling back to give him a sweet little smile.

"I can only imagine what it would be like to be so lucky as to have a child as wonderful as you," she continued with sincerity, raising a hand to cup his cheek.

Gregory quickly found himself speechless, her soft blue eyes making his heart throb painfully at the realisation this creature curled into his body was far too good for him. Not that they were perfect by any means but he loved her and he knew for a fact she loved him for some unknown reason.

Slowly a smile overcame him and he released her, pushing her onto her back before shimmying down to kiss her stomach again.

"I do truly hope you have your mother's eyes," he whispered, smoothing a hand over the bulge once more.

Then he felt a soft kick beneath his hand and looked up, startled. It wasn't the first time he'd felt it but each time he did he couldn't help but look to his wife in wonder. This was their child, their baby and he could feel it. The sensation never failed to amaze him.

"Gregory?" she asked softly, biting her lip and his smile fell. "Would you prefer it if the child was a boy?"

Gregory sighed, resting his cheek against her belly as he took one of her hands in hers. He'd expected this conversation to come up sooner or later. After all, they were both of farming families in which a male child was considered to be the preference. Girls were good but for firstborns, boys were the thing. Of course, he didn't prescribe to any of those ridiculous ideas, he wanted a child and would want it regardless of the gender.

"I want this child," he said solemnly. "Regardless of whether it is a boy or a girl because it is our child."

"But-."

"If we have a boy I shall be overjoyed," he continued, cutting her off. "And I shall be proud to call him my son."

"So you-."

"Patricia," he almost moaned, dragging out her name. "Do you want me to finish?"

She rolled her eyes and nodded but he was pleased to see she didn't blush as she once would have. She was getting better at standing up to him.

"But if we have a girl," he continued carefully, holding her gaze. "I shall be ecstatic and treat her as the precious jewel she will be."

"But-."

"I want this baby," he said hurriedly, moving up to take her face in his hands. "I want our child Patricia and I will love you both more than I can ever explain. Alright?"

"Alright," she replied softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. He smiled softly at her, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her lips.

"Do you have a preference?" he asked, pulling back and settling on an elbow, allowing him to look down at her while he played with a strand of her hair.

"For what?" she asked, breath hitching and Gregory chuckled.

"For the baby," he encouraged, stroking her cheek. "Would you prefer a daughter or a son?"

"A healthy baby," she replied firmly and Gregory cursed himself for not having come up with the answer himself. She smiled up at him, obviously taking pity on him and his jumbled answer. "But if we have a daughter I'd like her to have your eyes."

"Any particular reason?" he asked, holding her hand to his face as she moved to caress his cheek.

"No," she replied quietly. "Though I'd like our son to have your hair. It's beautiful and thick."

"What about a golden haired little boy?" he teased. "With shining blue eyes and hair the colour of the sun?"

"Now who has been reading Shakespeare?" she teased in reply, snatching her hand back to tap his nose. "Help me up?"

Gregory obliged, easing her up until she could swing her legs over the side of the bed.

"Regardless of the gender, I certainly hope the baby comes soon," she muttered as he helped her to stand. "I am huge."

"You're beautiful," Gregory answered instantly but Patricia pulled a face.

"I'm huge," she said again. "And the child seems to take great pleasure in dancing a jig on my bladder."

Her eyes widened momentarily, cheeks pinking as she realised what she'd said but Gregory only smile, taking her face between his hands.

"Only a few weeks," he whispered before planting a kiss on her plush lips. Patricia sighed into the contact, hands coming to rest on his shoulders as her tongue darted out to touch his. Gregory's reaction was instant, his arms dropping to her waist to pull her as close as he could manage with the child between them. For a long moment, neither moved, completely wrapped up in the sensation of their lips meshed until a soft knock sounded at the door.

"Mrs. Magnus?" a timid voice called, forcing Gregory to pull back.

"Come in Elizabeth," Patricia called, stepping back and smoothing out her dress. "I'll see you at dinner?"

Gregory smiled, pecking her on the cheek before ducking around the maid with a smile on his face. He had a beautiful wife, a child on the way and his practice was beginning to garner respect. He had never been happier in his life.


	5. Drool

**I spent my shift today thinking up how I want the rest of this story to pan out and, as such, this is totally unproofread and I apologize for that fact. I just had to get out the next chapter and cannot be bothered trying to check it through at this point. Plus I owe you guys something, it's been too long.**

**There could be a second part to this chapter if anyone is interested. It will involve Albert if anyone liked his character :) Anywho, if you're interested, drop me a line and I'll write that baby out!**

**Also, disclaimer. I have never had a child nor have I spent much time around newborns. I did some research here to figure out what would be expected of a child around the 8 to 9 month mark but it could be wrong. If it is, pretend Helen is super smart yeah?**

**xx**

* * *

><p>Rolling his shoulders, Gregory trudged up the small stairs that led to their townhouse. It was raining and had been all day, causing the wheel of the carriage to break which was why he was walking home with a barely functional umbrella. To top it all off, his funding had been reduced and he'd been offered a 'move to the country' as the head surgeon had put it. They wanted him out of London where his ideas and discoveries couldn't damage their reputations. In truth, he did have a choice but it wasn't much of one. Either he moved to Oxford or they ruined his reputation. It made him furious. Why these so called intelligent men of decent profession couldn't see the value in his side projects was beyond him. It was for the good of humanity, the good of the future.<p>

The door flew open just as he reached for the knob, Elizabeth's bright face greeting him with a bob. She took his umbrella, stashing it away as she began to ask after his day. As she took his coat and hat, Gregory wondered at how such familiarity had sprung up between their maid and himself. When she'd first come to work for them, she'd been silent as a door mouse, not saying a word unless prompted but, after a little gentle coaxing, a sweet young woman had emerged. She was kind, enthusiastic and efficient. She spoke with great pride of her family back in Wales and blushed furiously whenever he asked after the young butler down the road she was stepping out with but today Gregory wasn't in the mood to talk. His heart was heavy and inane chatter about the damp was not what he needed.

He was just about to open his mouth and announce his intention to retire to his study when suddenly a delighted giggle reached his ears followed by a cataclysm of unintelligible sounds and phrases. His heart jumped at the sound and, though he didn't know it, a warm smile lifted his lips. With a quick smile for Elizabeth (who simply smiled in return, completely aware of how the master was when he heard such a noise) he kicked off his muddied boots and hurried through the warm house.

The giggling continued followed by yet another string of happy if not slightly wet sounds and he picked up the pace, only stopping when he reached the open doors of the lounge out the back. It wasn't their best room that was saved for a reception room but it was warm and spacious and had a lovely view out over the tiny garden out the back that was today shrouded in rain and mist. The fire was roaring in the corner, highlighting the rich fabrics but Gregory paid no attention to the surrounds, instead wholly focused on where Patricia sat on a plush couch, a round, cherubic baby bouncing on her knee, the source of the heart warming noises.

"How are my darlings?" Gregory asked, crossing the room with a grin before sinking down beside Patricia who beamed up at him before pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

"I was worried you'd not make it home for dinner with all this rain," Patricia said as he plucked their daughter from her grasp.

"It was worth it," Gregory answered absently as he cuddled the scrap of a child in his arms. Helen gurgled happily at him, waving fat, drool covered fists up at him. Gregory laughed at her toothless grin before turning to his wife, all weariness gone.

"I missed you," he said, leaning over to brush his lips against hers. She sighed into the contact and shuffled closer on the couch, resting her head against his shoulder.

"I missed you too," she said softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he returned his gaze to where Helen was trying to reach up to him. She giggled happily at the kiss and Gregory sat her upright, allowing her to grab onto his jacket.

"I think she likes it when you do that," he said, turning to give Patricia a wink. She looked taken aback, cocking her head in askance. With another grin, Gregory leant forward to kiss her, smiling as Helen cried out joyously in response.

"She likes it when I kiss you," he advised his bemused looking wife who had turned to regard their daughter with affectionate eyes.

"I like it when you kiss me too," Patricia whispered in response, not looking away from the finger Helen had grabbed enthusiastically. Gregory swallowed, heat rising within him that had little to do with the fire. Then Patricia turned, giving him a sly little smile before straightening out and sitting back.

"Shall I do it again?" he offered, trying to sound nonchalant but Patricia only shook her head and chuckled.

"You are as bad as this little one," she told him, brushing a finger over Helen's round little cheek. "She spends all day going on and on about everything under the sun, never giving me a minutes rest."

"Oh does she now?" Gregory replied, playing along.

"Most definitely," Patricia said, regarding Helen seriously as she shoved a fat little fist into her mouth, gumming away happily on the appendage until her mother pulled it free at which point she flashed her parents a wide smile before offering the fist to them.

"Tell your papa how outspoken you are," Patricia encouraged and, as if on cue, Helen erupted into a babble of high pitched squeaks and squeals. Gregory laughed warmly at the tiny bundle sitting on his lap with the aid of his hands. With a smile for his wife, he held Helen tighter, tucking her up into the crook of his neck before turning to face Patricia once more. Helen seemed to like the treatment nuzzling against him as one little hand reached out to fist in his cravat. Her halo of golden curls tickled his neck but Gregory breathed deeply, inhaling the sweet scent of baby that he hoped she'd never lose.

"Do you like her dress?" Patricia asked, reaching out to rub circles on the little girl's back. "It's the one your mother sent but I think it's a little impractical considering the rate at which she manages to ruin her clothes."

Gregory nodded in agreement. Velvet for a child who was barely capable of keeping her spit to herself seemed imprudent. Especially considering the fact that she was not yet a year old. Helen gurgled something, tugging on his cravat as if missing the attention of her parents before sitting up with what little strength she had.

Understanding what she wanted, Gregory prised her little hand from the silk around his throat before undoing the knot and handing over yet another cravat to be ruined. Helen's smile widened (if that was at all possible) and Gregory set his daughter back down on his lap to begin playing as she always did.

For a few moments he and Patricia sat quietly, watching as she tugged and waved the dark blue silk about, occasionally pulling it free of her mouth before Patricia's small hand smoothed across his brow. The action, so sweet and familiar soothed him instantly and Gregory relaxed into the couch, giving her a grateful smile.

"Are they still giving you trouble?" she asked quietly, her voice carefully neutral. Helen it seemed was a master at picking up moods from the tone of voice used and had often begun wailing if they even got short with one another.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news," Gregory replied, taking hold of her hand as Helen began to clamber across to her mother's lap. Patricia quickly pulled the little girl up to nestle into her embrace before returning her attention to Gregory.

He sighed, enjoying the perfectness of the scene before him. Patricia looked as beautiful as always, her creamy skin highlighted by a pale pink dress while her big blue eyes looked to him in question. And there was Helen, her own creamy skin and blonde curls fitting in with her mother's perfectly as she batted her own big blue eyes at him. The dark lashes that fringed her eyes made them seem even bigger and just looking at her serene little face and rosebud pout, Gregory was overcome with the need to be closer to them.

Shuffling closer, he pulled his two girls in close, hand resting on Helen's back.

"They've asked me to move to Oxford," he told her softly. Though they'd purchased a home there before they were married, Gregory had been asked to remain in London for a time and it seemed sensible to stay considering Patricia's only circle of friends outside their home town resided here. "Attachment to the university," he continued.

"And you don't want to go?" Patricia asked, pulling back to look up at him. He sighed, opening his mouth and closing it again before looking back to where Helen was blinking lazily. "She wanted to stay up to welcome you home," Patricia told him before reaching out and cupping his cheek. "But tell me, do you not want to move to Oxford?"

"You've only just gotten settled," he replied, placing his hand over hers, turning his head and kissing it softly. "I cannot uproot your life simply because I choose to pursue a strand of medicine not everyone approves of."

Patricia sighed and shook her head, readjusting Helen against her side before setting her jaw and Gregory knew he was in for it now.

"I know I am not a doctor or even learned in the way that you are but I approve," she said steadily, her gaze locked on his. "If we need to move to Oxford to allow you to pursue something you feel passionately about than we shall. More than that, I think a little country air would be good for Helen and, as her father, it is your job to provide, remember?" Her lips twisted into a small smile at the gentle teasing she gave him and Gregory couldn't help but smile in response. When Helen had first been born and he held her screaming body in his arms, he'd turned to Patricia and fiercely proclaimed that he would make sure that their darling girl would want for nothing in the entire world and that he would make it his life's mission to provide everything she and the glorious woman who had provided her to him could ever have need of.

He had meant every harshly whispered word of his proclamation and Patricia had told him one dark night as they listened to Helen's soft snoring in the crib that she intended to hold him to that promise for she'd not allow him to treat Helen badly. After that they'd traded quiet promises in regards to their sleeping daughter until they'd both fallen asleep only to be awoken by dulcet tones of their very own screaming infant.

"But your friends?" he said softly. She only shook her head in reply and Gregory sighed once more. Helen, at this point decided once more than she required more cuddling from her father and began with a few excited yet demanding exclamations, waving her arms towards him. Smiling, Gregory reached for her, chuckling at her delighted squeal as he lifted her clean above their heads. Patricia tutted but he ignored her, instead jiggling his still grinning daughter above them as her arms and legs flailed wildly and she laughed.

With his own whoop of delight, Gregory brought her back to his lap, bouncing her softly upon his knee as he turned to Patricia.

"Are you sure about Oxford?" he asked and she nodded, smiling as she reached out to straighten Helen's dress, her face the picture of matriarchal pride. Helen grabbed her mother's finger with one still slightly damp hand, bringing a soft laugh from her lips.

"I am certain," she replied, not looking up. Smiling once more, Gregory took a hold of their joined hands, leaning down to press a kiss to his daughter's tiny, dimpled knuckles. Helen giggled once more in delight before grabbing her father's beard. Extracting himself from her grip, he leant back and watched as Helen began to amuse herself once more with his cravat. Patricia quickly settled into his side, pressing a warm kiss to his neck with a little hum that he knew he'd never get tired of.

This was what made it all worth it.


	6. Surprise

**Alright, so there is a teeny discrepancy in this. Patricia's birthday is said to be (in Revelations II) 21836 and I am going to take liberties and say that her birthday is, according to the American way of reading a date, the 18****th**** of February. Roll with me? I just need for it to be in Winter is all... Completely unbetead because I actually have to run to work RIGHT NOW!**

**Hope everyone enjoys :)**

**xx**

* * *

><p>Groaning, Gregory rolled over and away from the cool edge of the bed. His hand, it seemed had gotten trapped outside the covers and, as such he felt it might very well fall off from frost bite. Weak sunlight was streaming in through the windows they'd failed to cover last night, piercing his eyelids. It had been a terribly late evening and it now felt much too early to even be thinking of consciousness. As it was, his feet were frosty, the winter air permeating the thick blankets that were supposed to ward off the chill.<p>

He stretched, wiggling to chase away the ache in his back before rolling to the centre of the bed and away from the cold light. What was also nice was that in that direction was another warm, fragrant body. Unfortunately, as Gregory curled into said warm and fragrant body, she began to squirm and moan, beating away the cold hand that landed on her stomach.

Gregory was relentless though, burying his face in her neck and holding her tight to him.

"Gregory," Patricia moaned, arching away from his cold nose.

"But you're warm," he groused in reply, refusing to let her lithe body go free.

She continued to squirm and fidget, her body rubbing against his until suddenly she froze and Gregory developed a very bad feeling.

Suddenly, she turned in his embrace, pressing her front to his before tossing a leg up and over his hip.

Then it was Gregory's turn to freeze, eyes flying open despite the semi conscious state he was in.

Patricia chuckled darkly against his chest, tightening her leg to pull him closer.

"Good morning darling," she almost purred, her voice laced with an innocence that belied her provocative hold on him.

"Comfortable are you?" he asked, finally snapping out of it and holding her close, letting one hand tangle in the golden curls that refused to stay tightly wound all night. It never failed to amuse him how she spent so long making sure her hair was knotted just so only to wake up and find it spread around her face in a sunny halo.

"Not in the slightest," she replied with a small yawn. "I was having the most pleasant dream and you woke me with your bloody cold hands."

He smiled and ran his hands down her back, enjoying the hiss she tried to stifle in his night shirt.

"But you're so warm," he murmured softly in her ear, shrugging the blankets up higher, deciding right then and there that they weren't going to be getting up anytime soon. It was Saturday morning, far earlier than appropriate for a weekend and she fit into his arms far too nicely for him to even consider letting her up.

"It's because you're stealing my warmth," she muttered before turning her head to look up at him, small grin in place. "That's not very gentlemanly of you."

He rolled his eyes and ran his hand down to cup her knee, hiking her leg higher up his side.

"Nor is this terribly gentlewomanly," he countered with a goofy grin and a squeeze of her knee, heart fluttering as it always had at her giggle. Even after a little less than seven years of marriage, each soft laugh from her or knowing smirk sent his entire body alight with pleasure. She was still, despite her occasional complaints to the contrary, was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met and the slight widening of her body thanks to their child only increased that beauty.

From time to time they fought still and she'd huff off with a dark look but then he'd remember the docile little creature he'd brought into his home all those years ago and smile, pleased at how much more comfortable she was around him these days. After that it would be only a matter of minutes before h went to find her, cup of tea in hand. It took a few minutes longer for her to relent and accept the cup but if she even thought of bowing her head and apologising blindly he would take the tea away and tell her off for it. Their marriage was not particularly traditional but he wouldn't have it any other way. He liked that she had thoughts and ideas, a backbone and that she stood up to him if she truly felt he was wrong. They were equals in many ways and her willingness to rise to the challenge of playing that role made him certain he could have chosen no better wife.

"Would you like me to move?" she asked, unable to keep her humour from her voice.

"Not in a million years!" Gregory exclaimed, trying his best to sound affronted as he held her tighter.

"Good," she replied indulgently, fist curling into the shirt of his nightshirt.

Stroking her hair gently, Gregory let himself be lulled into semi consciousness by the rise and fall of her chest.

He was just teetering on the precipice of sleep when suddenly he heard the door creak open. Patricia apparently heard it too, her head popping up from where it had been nestled against his chest just as a small ball of white nightclothes launched itself up and onto the bed, straight on top of their entwined forms.

"Papa!"

The word was punctuated with a sloppy kiss to his cheek and a wide, dimpled grin.

"Helen," Patricia said with a sigh, shuffling back as she took the girl in her arms.

"Good morning to you too Mama," she continued, apparently worried that the lack of greeting was the source of her mother's exasperation.

"Did you sleep well darling?" Gregory asked, sitting up and smiling down at their five year old daughter. She nodded, blonde plaits flopping about with the movement.

"I dreamt of a dragon," she said, her voice misty and filled with awe.

"Well that hardly sounds pleasant," Patricia put in as she settled against the head board, making sure to pull the covers up over Helen too.

"But he was so big and scary," Helen continued, blue eyes wide. "But it was only because he had a cut on his belly. Papa fixed him and he stopped being scary."

Gregory sat up, sharing a worried look with Patricia before turning his attention back to Helen, pleased that she had kept chatting away about her dream. His work, whilst not quite involving dragons had taken a rather different turn in recent years, one that he both loved and feared, something that Patricia had expressed too. Her concern was that it was not a world for their daughter to be involved in and while he shared it to an extent, his fear more came from what people might do to Helen and Patricia if his work was exposed.

"... and then we all had sandwiches by the fire," Helen concluded, her little face crumpling for a second. "Oh, and there was a princess too. But she wasn't very fun."

At that both Gregory and Patricia laughed.

"Well then dragon healer," Patricia teased with a kiss to Helen's cheek. "If your dream was so fascinating, why are awake so early?"

"I..." she started, trailing off and turning in her mother's lap to give Gregory a wide eyed look of astonishment. "Is it today?" she breathed, scrambling over to her father.

Gregory chuckled, scooping her up as he kissed the top of her head.

"It most certainly is," he agreed warmly, enjoying her squeal of delight. She pushed at him, struggling to free herself from his grasp before falling flat on her face between her parents. Almost immediately, she pushed herself up and brushed a few stray curls from her face before jumping at Patricia.

"Happy Birthday!" she cried in delight, small arms clinging to Patricia's neck. Her mother laughed good naturedly, patting her on the back before shooting Gregory a glare that told him he'd be in trouble for this later. She had asked very kindly to not celebrate the occasion this year and he had, much to Helen's delight told their daughter that they couldn't very well do that.

"Are you excited Mama?" she asked, pulling back and sitting on Gregory's lap. "Today shall be such fu-."

She faltered, looking up to her father guiltily.

"Just what have you two planned?" Patricia asked, shaking her head.

"It's our secret," Gregory claimed, pulling Helen up so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. She was getting to be almost too old for him to hold her like this but he still loved to indulge her from time to time.

"Papa worked very hard to plan it," Helen said earnestly before turning and giving Gregory a kiss on the cheek. "And I had to be very good and not tell you."

"You did splendidly," he assured her, tapping her on the nose before tossing one of her long plaits over her shoulder. She beamed at him before slipping back to sit with her mother.

"Are you awfully mad at us Mama?" she asked in a soft voice. Patricia smiled softly and traced a finger down her cheek.

"Not at all," she assured her. "Well, not with you my darling. Your father, perhaps."

She turned, grinning at him before pulling Helen close and carefully undoing the ties at the bottom of one plait.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to make you upset," Helen said worriedly, looking up to Gregory with the same gaze her mother used whenever she wanted him to agree with her on some stupid little point. The one that almost always worked too.

"He shall make it up to me," Patricia declared, not taking her eyes from where she was carefully loosening the first plait, allowing Helen's blond shimmering curls to float down her back. Her hair was long, unfashionably so on a child so young but she claimed to like the nearly waist length curls and both Gregory and Patricia were loathe to cut them off.

"Maybe he could buy you ice cream?" Helen suggested with a mischievous smile as Patricia started on the second braid.

"Firstly, I already told you I will buy you a treat," Gregory chastised with a smile. "And secondly, it's far too cold for ice cream."

Helen rolled her eyes as if there was no such thing as too cold for the sugary treat but before she could reply, the door burst open, a harried looking Elizabeth bursting in.

"Helen!" she cried in alarm. "You mustn't run off like that and disturb your parents. I told you they'd be down to see you when it was appropriate."

Gregory watched as his daughter's face dropped, her teeth grabbing at her bottom lip as she looked around guiltily.

"It's alright Elizabeth," Patricia cut in smoothly. "She won't do it again, will she?"

Her tone left no room for compromise and Helen nodded vigorously.

"Would you mind seeing if breakfast is ready yet?" she continued. "I'll take Helen to get dressed, if that's alright."

"Of course Miss," Elizabeth said hurriedly, backing out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

"What have we told you about running away from Bess?" Gregory asked, putting a finger under Helen's chin to turn her face towards him.

"She was asleep," Helen muttered, not meeting his eye.

"You mean you got all the way down here by yourself?" he asked, allowing surprise to colour his tone. Helen's face instantly brightened.

"Even the great old door?" Patricia put in, making Helen beam with delight. The door to her room was stiff and old, far too heavy for her to move on her own most days.

"I wanted to see you," Helen said softly, trying to hide her pride at making it through the large house. It was too big for the three of them but Gregory had dreams of filling it to the brim with children eventually. It was something he and Patricia had talked about from time to time and it was a source of great pain for her but he maintained that it would happen again eventually.

"Well, as proud as we are that you made it all the way down here on your own, you have to remember not to run away from Bess, alright? You are much too grown up to be that silly."

"Yes Mother," Helen intoned, pulling a face.

"Helen," Gregory said warningly.

"I know," she said with a heavy sigh. "And I do try but it's just..." She bit her lip again, this time toying with the end of her hair.

"What is it, sweet?" Gregory asked, placing a hand on her back. She felt so small under his palm it was almost terrifying.

"I do not enjoying going over my manners all day long," she said, her voice quiet. "And I want to learn proper things. Like how to do what Papa does."

At that, Gregory couldn't help but laugh as Patricia scooped her up. Helen snuggled into her mother's side, their blonde curls mixing as Helen looked up at her father with wide eyes.

"One day when you are as big as your mother," he said, shuffling forward to wrap his arms around both his girls, "you shall learn anything you like."

"Promise?" Helen asked, enticed by even the far off possibility of something other than appropriate manners and how to curtsey.

"Cross my heart," Gregory said solemnly. "But until then you have to be good for your Mama and Bess."

"I shall be most cross if you don't let me learn," Helen warned, her blue eyes wide and solemn.

"And I shall be most cross if I hear of you terrorizing poor Bess," Patricia said firmly. Helen sighed but nodded.

There was a beat before she perked up once more, looking between her parents for a moment before she grinned.

"Does this mean we can go get ready now?" she asked brightly, almost bouncing with excitement.

Gregory laughed and leant over, giving them both a kiss to the cheek, smiling broadly when they both laughed, their musical tinkles making his heart swell a little.

"Off with you both," he ordered gleefully. "I don't want to see either of you until you are dressed in your very best travelling outfits. Understood?"

Helen jumped from her mother's arms, standing precariously on the bed and giving her father a salute before falling flat on her backside.

* * *

><p>"We match!" Helen exclaimed brightly, bounding down the stairs as fast as her little legs could carry her.<p>

Gregory turned, laughing as Helen came to a sudden halt at his feet, beaming up at him. She was swathed head to toe in dark blue velvet that matched the colour of Gregory's own heavy jacket. Her blonde curls were piled atop her head, another strip of velvet keeping the curls from her face.

"We do indeed," he allowed, bending down to pick her up and drop her on his knee. It was difficult with the starched crinoline skirt but it was a practiced manoeuvre and soon she was settled. "And is Mama wearing blue too?" he asked as she began swinging her feet, shiny black shoes peeking out at him.

"No," she replied with a shrug. "Her dress is much prettier than mine though."

"I don't believe that," he replied indulgently. "You look like a little princess all rugged up to go out and tour her kingdom."

Helen scrunched up her nose and began talking but it was at that moment that Patricia appeared at the top of the stairs in a rich purple travelling costume. It was velvet like Helen's but far more slim fitting, emphasising her tiny waist with a deep V of white lace and frills. Perched on her head was a matching hat, her curls tucked up neatly before cascading down her back in haphazard ringlets.

He watched, mesmerized as she daintily lifted her skirts an inch, little black boots just poking out as she descended the stairs one by one. It was a more tapered style than the large skirts she normally wore when they went out but Gregory couldn't help but wish she wore such garments all the time.

Carefully he helped Helen to the floor, unable to resist walking straight to his wife's side and offering her his arm.

"Thank you," she said warmly, taking it with a smile.

"You look magnificent," he told her fiercely, not even her sweet little blush allowing him to drop her gaze.

"Thank you," she said again, this time her voice a little thicker.

"Can we go now Papa?" Helen asked eagerly, tugging on the edge of his jacket as she looked up at them both with wide eyes.

Taking a shaky breath, Gregory nodded, holding a hand down to her. Helen took it eagerly, practically dragging them both towards the door.

"I had Elizabeth pack us breakfast into a basket," Gregory told Patricia as they were herded out the door and into the cold, bracing air. "And there is some more food in case we need some for the trip home."

"This must be quite a trip," she said, giving him a questioning look. "Where exactly are we going?"

"Would you like to do the honours?" he offered Helen before hoisting her up and into their waiting carriage.

She nodded enthusiastically, bouncing on the balls of her feet and wobbling so fiercely Gregory had to reach out and steady her.

"We're going to London Mama!" she cried, eyes bright with excitement as she grinned, dimples flashing.

Patricia laughed, smiling as Helen began to bounce about again.

Gregory ushered her towards a seat in the corner before helping Patricia up, allowing his hands to linger on her curves for a moment. She gave him a little smile, the tips of her ears turning pink as her eyes twinkled and Gregory almost groaned as he followed her into the carriage.

Patricia settled on one side of the carriage, shuffling towards the corner and rearranging her skirts to make room for Gregory. Sliding in next to her, he pulled the doors shut and tapped on the roof, wrapping an arm around his wife as they carriage lurched into motion.

Helen almost immediately started to gush about her excitement, about how wonderful it was going to be to spend the day in the city and about how fantastic it all was. She paused halfway through her ramblings, giving Gregory a tumultuous look before glancing at her mother. She bit her lip once more and looked down.

"Papa..." she began quietly, a note of begging in her voice.

"If you must," he allowed with a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes for dramatic effect as Helen grinned, scrambling for the blankets they'd stowed beneath her seat the other day. After a few moments of fumbling, she emerged, a small, wrapped package in one hand and a card in the other.

"Happy Birthday Mama," she said, holding out her bounty.

"Thank you my darling," Patricia said warmly, taking the gifts before leaning over to press a kiss to her daughter's forehead.

"Open them," Helen enthused, eyes bright with excitement once more.

Chuckling under her breath, Patricia did as she was instructed, opening the card Helen had drawn herself. It was a blank sheet of paper pilfered from Gregory's office and decorated with a few sweet sketches of flowers and three figures holding hands. Gregory had helped her to write a short message that consisted of a misspelt birthday greeting and a wobbly heart.

"It's beautiful," Patricia said, eyes twinkling. "Thank you Helen, it's wonderful."

"Open the other one!" she cried, waving away the thanks. Sitting up slightly Gregory looked down at the small, rough package sitting in her lap. Helen had refused to show him the gift, insisting that it had to be a surprise.

Laughing softly, Patricia carefully unwrapped it, pulling at the strings until the brown paper fell away, leaving her with a small clutch of silk fabric. She looked over to Helen who was grinning once more, swinging her legs.

Carefully she peeled back the green silk to expose a small, delicate bracelet. Patricia gasped, fingers trembling as she picked it up.

"Where did you get this?" she asked softly, looking up at Gregory. He simply shook his head, gesturing for her to ask their still smiling daughter.

"Aunt Ethel gave it to Ashley to give to me last time we went to visit," she explained. "Ashley said it was yours only you lost it when you were little but when they were cleaning out Grandmother's jewellery box they found it."

"It... it was my grandmother's," she explained, voice shaking. "She gave it to me the night you first asked me to dance."

"Do you like it?" Helen asked eagerly.

"Oh I love it," Patricia exclaimed, reaching out to pull Helen over onto her lap before showering her face with light kisses. Helen giggled and squirmed until Patricia pulled back, eyes shining with tears.

"Put it on," Helen encouraged and Patricia held out her wrist, allowing Helen to struggle with the clasp for a moment, her little tongue poking out one side of her mouth until she grinned once more in success.

Gregory couldn't help but smile down at his two beautiful girls curled against him, so proud of his little daughter.

This was going to be a day he knew he'd never forget.


	7. In The End

**Alright, I promised I'd give out a warning when we came to this, the very last chapter. It made me tear up a little and I never, repeat **_**never**_** tear up at my own stuff. Rarely does it happen with fic but it did today. Though I think I'm in one of those emotionally messy places which could have something to do with it. And I was listening to Secrets by One Republic (listen to it, the violin at the beginning is perfect for this story) which always makes me sad.**

**Huge props to agrianne24 who was a wonderful impromptu beta when I refused to read this again :)**

**Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who's been nagging me with this one. It went from being a oneshot to something I'm actually rather proud of. I'll miss it, that's for sure. **

**xx**

* * *

><p>The first thing Gregory noticed as he barrelled down the sidewalk towards home, was the ominous black carriage parked out the front. It was austere to say the least, no trimmings or adornments, instead it was the picture of practicality. And it made his heart sink.<p>

He'd been at work when the message had come through, a terrified young man, barrelling into the surgery out of breath and shaking as he handed over a note. At first he'd wanted to tell the young man not to tire himself out, lest he do some serious damage but at the first glimpse of Elizabeth's hurried scrawl the warning died.

Elizabeth never wrote to him. It was always Patricia. Sometimes with a side note from Helen but never, ever Elizabeth. Not even the time that Helen had broken her arm.

He'd swallowed the words down fearfully, paper falling to the ground as he barked instructions to his secretary and grabbed his coat. The young man called after him, saying something about an appointment but Gregory had paid no attention. He'd jumped in his carriage, shouting at the man to break land speed records and get him home as quickly as possible.

The trip had felt like it had taken hours despite the break neck pace at which they were travelling. Gregory wished he'd had the foresight to grab more than his coat and bag of equipment, yearning for the chance to re read the note their maid had sent. Not that he needed to, the short message was already engraved on the back of his eyelids.

They had been so close to home when the carriage came to a stop, Gregory throwing open the door and jumping down before the driver could do so much as blink. There was some kind of commotion up ahead, a carriage over turned and hundreds of busybodies crowing the road. He'd darted through the other carriages choking the street to the path along the side, not caring for whatever it was that had happened to cause such a ruckus.

Bag still clutched in one hand, coat lost in the fray, Gregory had run the last few blocks home, not caring about the ache in his side or the frightening thump of his heart. It was hot, the summer day making the pavement sizzle under his feet and the sun high in the sky beating down upon his back in false cheer.

Lurching up the stairs, he breathed a sigh of relief as the door flew open only to have his heart launch itself up to her throat.

"Helen," he choked out, dropping his bag as he opened his arms to her.

The terrified 8 year old launched herself at him, her tiny, trembling frame clinging to his.

"Papa," she sobbed and he scooped her up as her hot tears fell upon his neck. He held her tight for a moment, eyes scanning the deserted foyer. A tray was set up in the front parlour, two cups of tea next to a plate of biscuits he knew Helen loved.

"It's alright darling," he said softly, trying to keep the panic from his voice. She stifled another frightened sob against his shoulder, her blonde curls tickling his cheek as she curled into his arms.

Then he saw Elizabeth at the top of the stairs, her large eyes brimming with tears.

Not even thinking about it, he sprinted forwards, holding Helen tight as he took the stairs two at time.

"Mama," Helen whispered sadly, another shudder ripping through her little body.

"She'll be fine," Gregory swore, turning his face to press a cheek to the top of her head.

"She fell," Helen continued, voice trembling. She pulled back from his neck slightly, blue eyes filled with tears. "She fell on the baby Papa."

Gregory felt his heart clench and he tightened his grip on his eldest child, rushing along the landing to where Elizabeth was clutching the balustrade with white knuckles.

"Doctor Magnus," she breathed.

"Helen said she fell," he barked, fear snapping up his spine as he took in the trembling woman. It was one thing for an eight year old child to cry but if Elizabeth was this upset...

He refused to think about it.

"We were playing," Helen explained desperately, her voice cracking as she sniffled. "Mama was teaching me to be a lady. She was not feeling well but I... Oh Papa I'm so sorry!"

With that Helen began to cry in earnest. Gregory looked to Elizabeth who merely shook her head, lips pressed tightly together as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"She was showing how Helen to walk proper," Elizabeth whispered, whole body trembling as her eyes glazed over. "And she... she..."

"She said she was too tired," Helen cried softly. "But I... I wanted to... And she fell... It's my fault Papa."

"It's not your fault Helen," he said fiercely, pausing before setting her down on the floor and crouching before her. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her small nose red and swollen but she pressed her lips together, fighting the tears now that she couldn't hide them in his neck. "It was not your fault," he told her, grabbing her arms. "You understand me?"

Helen nodded, wet eyelashes fluttering.

"G-go with Bess," he instructed. "Go and be good for me."

Helen nodded once more before turning and burying her face in the woman's skirts to muffle a fresh set of sobs. He didn't even wait to see them retire to another room before turning on his heel and running full pelt towards his bedroom, almost knocking over a sedate looking man with grave eyes.

"Dr. Pascale," he breathed, grabbing hold of the other man.

"Dr. Magnus," the other man said sadly.

For a second Gregory couldn't breathe.

"I have to see her," he growled, pushing the other man aside as he made for the door.

"Dr. Magnus wait."

It was only the firm hand on his shoulder that stopped him from bursting in.

"How was she feeling when you left for work this morning?"

"I.. uh... I don't know," Gregory admitted, "I left before she woke."

"And last night?"

"She... she went to bed early I think. She wasn't feeling well..."

Dr. Pascale said nothing, regarding him with dark eyes.

"She got sick last time though," Gregory insisted, almost pleading with the other man. "With Helen, she was always tired, always ill."

"I'm terribly sorry Dr. Magnus," Dr. Pascale said gravely.

"The baby?" Gregory whispered, barely wanting to know.

"I'm afraid it died some time ago."

At that he felt his heart break. They had been trying for years to have another child, it was Patricia's greatest fear that she'd never give Helen a sibling.

"And... and my wife?" Gregory asked, pushing past the heartache. "She'll recover?"

Dr. Pascale lowered his gaze and cleared his throat.

"I'm terribly sorry Gregory," he said softly. "But the infection from the child... Perhaps if we'd caught it earlier."

It took Gregory a moment to process exactly what that raw sound that reached his ears was and even then he could barely recognise his own voice. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging on the strands in an attempt to stem the tears that were spilling from his eyes.

Dr. Pascale looked shocked at his reaction but contained it well, patting Gregory on the shoulder as he leant against the nearest wall. Sobs were building up within him and try as he might, he couldn't stop them. Not that he wanted to either, he was too far gone to care about how it would look to the other man.

"They're delivering the child now," he said softly. "If you wait, you could... could say your goodbyes to her."

Gregory blinked in surprise, turning to the other man with wide eyes.

Then he turned, striding to the bedroom door and throwing it open. Patricia was propped up in the bed, her pale, sweaty face covered in tear tracks as a small group of women gathered around her legs blocking his view. Ignoring the doctor who stepped into the room behind him and closed the door, he continued moving quickly to his wife's side, grabbing her hand and smiling down at her as her eyes burst open in surprise.

"Gregory," she whimpered, the word slurred. A fresh onslaught of tears sprung to his eyes and he knelt, pulling her hand up to his lips.

"Darling," he burbled, kissing their entwined fingers harshly.

"I... I fell," she breathed, eyes glazed over. "Helen... Helen... Is she alright?"

Gregory opened his mouth to answer the question only to shut it as Patricia's hand tightened in his, her back arching as another contraction ripped through her. She cried out silently, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye.

After what seemed like an eternity, she flopped back to the bed, panting.

"You're almost done," one of the midwives said softly, patting her knee.

"Hear that?" Gregory said softly, shifting closer so that Patricia's laboured breaths were spiralling across his face. "Almost done."

"That's good," she replied breathily, eyes fluttering.

"No!" he cried in alarm. "Stay with me Patricia. Stay. Listen to me, you can't... you can't..."

"I am not going anywhere," she said softly, a smile flitting over her lips.

"Good," he said weakly, relief flooding through his body. "Good."

"Helen?" she asked softly, eyes finally locking onto his.

"She's fine," he soothed, brushing a few damp curls from her forehead.

Patricia hummed in response before she was again arching from the bed.

This time Gregory was prepared and spoke to her the whole time, murmuring endearments as she bared her teeth, finally a guttural cry slipping from her lips.

After a long moment she fell back to the bed, shivering and he watched as the midwife carried a small bundle, swathed in soft blankets.

Tears began to stream down his cheeks once more and Gregory turned back to Patricia, not caring for the women who were lowering her shaking legs and drawing up sheet after sheet to cover her. Part of him wanted to order them to clean her up properly as they would any other new mother but between his tears and the blinding panic seizing his heart he let it go.

"I... I don't feel so well," Patricia whispered, lip quivering. "Gregory, what's wrong with me?"

"You're sick," he told her softly, pressing another hasty kiss to the hand he'd yet to let go of. "You're just... It was the baby. You've got an infection."

"The baby," she whispered, eyes growing misty as she began to shiver ever so slightly. "I'm sorry about the baby Gregory..."

"Don't be," he told her, heart breaking at the utter self loathing in her eyes. "It wasn't your fault."

"But... but I fell..."

"It wasn't your fault," he repeated. "There was... there was nothing." His voice cracked on the last word and he bowed his head, resting his cheek against the softness of hers.

For a moment he simply tried to breath, hoping to get his emotions back under control in an attempt to be strong but before he could, a loud noise out in the hallway caught his attention. He looked up just as the door flew open, Helen bolting through.

"Mama," she breathed tearfully, rushing towards the bed.

"Helen!" Elizabeth almost screamed, hurrying in after her young charge.

Helen ignored the maid, collapsing on the other side of the bed to Gregory as she took her mother's hand. Patricia smiled weakly at her as she watched her daughter try to hold back tears.

"My darling girl," she whispered, words slurring and Gregory's heart clenched.

"Oh Mama... I love you. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry sweet one... I love you."

Helen began to sob in earnest then and Elizabeth swooped in, carrying her bodily from the bed. The second she felt herself being lifted from the bed though, she began to scream and kick, crying out to be put down.

Gregory watched through his tears as confusion flitted over Patricia's face at Helen's behaviour but then it was gone, her entire body convulsing jerkily beneath the covers. He barely noticed as Elizabeth took their daughter from the room, his entire being focused instead on the dead look in his wife's eyes. He shifted on the bed, carefully picking up Patricia's body and cradling her to his chest, rocking her back and forth as the tremors slowly subsided.

She moaned softly into the fabric of his jacket, her body feeling small and insignificant in his arms. In comparison to the growing belly she'd been supporting just a few days ago she now felt like a child, smaller than Helen. He ran a hand down over her still rounded belly, feeling the feverish temperature of her skin through the thin nightgown she wore.

"Gregory," she whispered softly, voice lilting to turn it into a question.

"I'm here, I love you, I'm here," he cooed, pulling back to smile down at her. One of his tears fell, landing on the perfect cream of her cheek and he hastily wiped it away.

"Don't cry," she told him weakly. "I'll be alright I just... just need a sleep is all."

"Then sleep, love," he told her, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. Patricia hummed in approval, eyes slipping closed as a small smile appeared on her lips.

"Sleep," he cooed, brushing the hair back from her face as he cradled her once more to his chest.

And, as he rocked her back and forth gently, Gregory knew the very second that her heart stopped beating. Not because she went slack in his arms or because the irregular rise and fall of her chest stopped but because his heart shattered in a terrifyingly complete way, thousands of small pieces dancing about his rib cage as her spirit slipped out of the room.

And then Gregory Magnus bowed his head, pressing one last kiss to her golden curls and wept.

* * *

><p>The sun was just rising as the door opened a fraction.<p>

Gregory looked up through bleary eyes, half expecting his darling young wife to glide through the doors, hair glistening in the early morning light of his study. He'd moved only a few hours ago after several attempts from the attending midwives, retiring to the one room that held not a single intimate memory of... of... of what he had lost.

His heart started at the first glimpse of gold, breath catching in his throat as a small face peered round at him, her blue eyes looking to him shyly.

"Helen," he said softly, voice ragged with emotion.

"Elizabeth said I ought to leave you alone."

"Nonsense. Come here."

Helen complied readily, closing the door before walking slowly towards him.

At that moment he was struck by just how like her mother she was. It wasn't a new revelation by any means but seeing his sweet young daughter walk so serenely towards him in her cream coloured wrapper, the resemblance was striking.

She only made it part way across the vast room at her ladylike pace before she paused, biting her lip and then ran straight to him. Gregory opened his arms instinctively, hauling her up to his lap with ease.

"Oh Father," she said softly, tucking her head under his chin. He was somewhat surprise to see that she wasn't crying but then again, he wondered just how much of this she was processing.

"It's alright Helen," he said soothingly, the words sounding hollow to his ears.

"No it is not," she said defiantly, pulling back to glare up at him. "Mama is gone and the baby is gone and it is just you and I. It is not alright!"

He studied her stubborn jaw for a moment before cracking a small smile.

"No, it's not."

She snuggled back into his arms, laying her head on his shoulder as her arms wound around his neck.

"Father?" she asked timidly. He rubbed a circle on her back and leant back in the chair.

"Yes?"

"Are you... are you going to be..."

"Alright?"

"Yes, I suppose..."

"I..." Gregory trailed off, uncertain about how best to answer the question. At this moment he did not feel as if he could ever be alright again but he couldn't tell their daught-

_His _daughter, he corrected mentally. _His_. He was alone now with an eight year old who would be solely reliant on him. His Helen, not their Helen. _His_.

And he couldn't tell his Helen that his heart would never work properly again. He couldn't tell her that he had no drive for life. He couldn't tell her that he felt like he was the one who should be being buried in the local cemetery coming Thursday. He couldn't tell his Helen that he could not feel anything because his heart, his soul, his entire being had died along with her mother. She couldn't lose both her parents, not like this.

"It's alright Papa," she said softly. "I don't think I will ever be alright either."

Closing his eyes, Gregory fought the tears as he held his daughter. Their daughter, he decided. She was like a miniature version of Patricia. She was _their _daughter.

"Was it... was it the fall?" Helen asked quietly, uncertainty colouring her tone as well as a shred of guilt.

"No," he told her firmly, tightening his grip. "No Mama was... sick for a few days before that. It was... was the baby."

"But... but how did the baby make Mama sick? I thought the baby was a good thing?"

"The baby- It- He was a good thing," Gregory said softly. "Your little brother just simply wasn't meant for this world."

"A brother?" Helen asked, her voice tinged with a childlike wonder Gregory would have admired had he not been numb. "What was his name?"

"Name?" Gregory echoed.

"He ought to have a name. If he was my brother then he should have a name."

"Your mother liked the name Henry for a boy," Gregory said softly.

"Henry," Helen echoed softly. "It's a good name."

"That it is."

"Papa is Mama in heaven?"

"Of course," he replied instantly. While his wavering views on religion were something he had no issue discussing with Helen, now was not the time for a theological debate. Her mother, his Patricia needed to be a in a beautiful place befitting the sweetness of her person.

For a long moment neither of them spoke, Gregory simply clinging to her as the last link he had to this life. He had to pull through, he had to continue for Helen, for Patricia.

Eventually, Helen let out a little sigh and slid from Gregory's arms to stand before him.

"Papa," she said seriously, taking his hands. Her blue eyes were sombre and he could see the pain etched in her face, pain that had no place in the eyes of someone so young. She squeezed his hand as her mother had always done to calm him.

"Mama had to go to heaven."

Gregory knew his eyes were wider than normal, his surprise clearly visible but he was too tired to pretend anything else.

"Mama had to go to heaven to look after Henry. You are here to look after me and Mama is looking after Henry."

The tears were falling hot and heavy down his cheeks and he was grinning widely at Helen who was looking at him with mild shock.

"Helen," he murmured, pulling her back up to his lap and holding her tight. "My glorious little Helen." It was the perfect reasoning, so innately her and so much like something her mother would have said.

He wasn't alright, neither of them were and they wouldn't be for a very long time but Gregory knew that they would be.

His Helen, their Helen, _Helen_.

She would mend his heart.

They would be alright.

In the end.

They would be alright.

Together.


End file.
